Dillard Beach Mystery – 60

It took much more time to transfer all the goods from ship to dock than the Captain had planned, but by mid-afternoon, the new trade post manager, Charles Ballard, was on the road to Saybrook Post and Captain Chapman and the crew of The Caroline were heading west towards New York City and the Hudson River.

As the horse-drawn wagons, piled high with goods, neared the center of Saybrook, citizens began to line the road, curious and excited by the arrival of new supplies. Men stopped to watch and women with children paused as the wagons slowly rolled on towards the new trading post.

“About time you got here,” one man shouted. “Been weeks since the last wagons arrived.”

Charles smiled at the man. “Well, sir, we are here now.” He waved at the gathering crowd.

“When will the post be open? I have a dozen pelts to trade,” one man called out. Others shouted at Ballard in Dutch but he did not understand. He raised his hands to quiet the questions.

“The post will be open for trade within a day or two,” he declared.

“Not good enough,” another man shouted. “We be waiting weeks.”

Charles turned and looked at the four wagons and drivers that had followed him from the dock. “As you can see, gentlemen, we have full wagons to deliver to the trading post. Give these men a day to unload our goods and get things ready for you to buy and trade. I assure you, the post will be open by the end of the week.”

The crowd grumbled but there was little more to be done. A man dressed as a constable approached the first wagon. “What is the trouble here?” he asked.

“No trouble, sir.” Charles responded. “Only over-eager citizens waiting to see what new goods the Saybrook Trading Company has to offer.”

“You the new manager?” the constable asked.

“I am sir. Charles Ballard. Newly appointed to the post,” he said proudly. “Our ship arrived in Saybrook Harbor late yesterday and my men have spent the morning securing transport to bring our goods to your village.”

“You are most welcome, sir, and none too soon. We have not had a new shipment to the trading post since late summer. Everything is in short supply and these people are anxious for whatever it is you are carrying.”

“They will not be disappointed, sir. We have all manner of foodstuffs and household items as well as any manner of tools for both farm and home.”

A thin man pushed his way to the front of the small gathering. “Have you brought us any books? We are in need of books.”

Charles looked down at the man. His long coat was threadbare and hung awkwardly on his narrow frame. Not a laborer, Ballard judged. Nor a statesman. A lawyer, perhaps?

“I am sure we have books, sir, but you will have to wait until we are settled into the trading post.”

The man moved closer to the wagon. “I am schoolmaster and we are in dire need of new volumes. My name is Gordon Thatcher, sir.” He reached out to shake hands with Ballard. “Our children, especially the boys, are in great need of an education, sir.”

“Come by the post in a few days and you may purchase any book we have.”

“Whatever you can supply, we can use, sir.” Thatcher replied.

“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Thatcher, education is a powerful thing. I look forward to greeting you at the trading post by the end of the week.” With that, Ballard nodded, bid the man a good day, and signaled his horse to continue down the road.

Emma stood in front of the trading post as the first of the wagons pulled into the yard. Rebekah and Ezra waited just inside the building with Shady Perkins and watched the parade of wagons and the small gathering of curious villagers arrive.

Charles climbed down from the first wagon and smiled at his wife. “Do you like it, Emma? Is it what you expected?”

Emma nodded but did not answer. Instead, she turned towards the front door of the trading post and began to lead her husband up the pathway. “Come, Charles. Come inside.” Charles reached for his wife’s hand but she pulled away.

“There is so much room Charles!” Emma declared. “How ever will we fill it? “And there is a second floor just as big. Wait until you see.” She pulled on her husband’s arm, anxious to show him everything.

“Wait, Emma. Let me get a sense of the space we have on the first floor.” He walked the length and width of the rooms and studied the placement of windows. “Where does this door lead?” he asked, standing at the center door along the back wall.

“Storage,” Emma answered. “The entire back wall of the post is for storing all the goods we will sell. It opens onto the backyard and a loading dock.”

Shady Perkins stepped forward. “Your wife is right about the dock. Tell your men to drive the wagons around to the back of the building,” she declared.

“And who are you?” he asked.

“Name of Perkins. Wife of the caretaker.”

Charles studied the space and had to agree with his wife. It was a lot of space to fill. He returned to the open front door and looked out at the front yard and the waiting wagons. Eager citizens stood waiting to see what treasures they had brought.

He walked to the lead wagon and spoke with the driver. “Move the wagons around the back of the post to the loading dock.” He looked up at the darkening sky and then back at the crowd. “There’s a pint of cider to any man of you willing to give us a hand unloading cargo,” he announced. “We need everything off the wagons and into storage by nightfall.”

By evening all four wagons had been emptied, barrels and crates filled the length of the storage room, and tired men sipped pints of ale sitting on found boxes in the large front room. With Rebekah’s help, Emma had determined which of the second-floor rooms would serve best as the master chamber and which would be left for guests and boarders. Bed frames and ticking had been delivered to each room.

“A good day’s work,” Charles declared to the men sitting around him. “Thanks are due to each of you fine gentlemen.” He glanced at Emma and Rebekah who sat on barrels near the far wall. “And to my beautiful wife, Emma, for all her good advice.” He raised his tankard in her direction. Emma blushed and lowered her head. “Let it be known, gentlemen, I may be the manager of the trading post, but Mrs. Ballard is the manager of me and has the final say. Anything you men need, you speak with Mrs. Ballard first. She will be helping me manage the post, at least until the babe arrives.” He grinned proudly at the men. A few gave a cheer at his news. “Well done, sir.”

Charles stood and looked about. “It is getting late. I think it time you all left us to ourselves as we turn out the lights.” A few men grumbled, but most stood and began to shuffle towards the door.

“Come back tomorrow noon. By that time most of our goods should be unboxed and we will be open to trade.

As the last man stepped out the door to return to his home, Charles turned to his wife and smiled.